Thursdays are like Fridays here

The reason being because Fridays are allocated to "research and composition," which sounds like a bunch of b.s. but it's really not. Have a full free day since we meet 10:30-5 with a break in between not long enough to really do anything is really helpful for reflection, writing, editing, journaling, etc. Plus, we're encouraged to go on day trips and travel. We're actually going away as a class this weekend, so really it's a big like we're having classes on the weekend, anyways.

This morning we had a joint reading and presentation by a woman named Paula Meehan, a poet, and a man named Theo Dorgan, a prose writer and poet. Yesterday our Irish prof named Mickey, and I am not kidding, told us on his way out... popping his head in the door and speaking very rapidly as usual, then leaving abruptly. "the speakers tomorrow are what you'd call... partners." Everyone looked at each other awkwardly and my suitemates and I raced home to google Theo and see if it was a girl, but it wasn't. What Mickey meant by partners was that they are in a longstanding relationship, but have not married. I love how this is just as big of a faux-pas in Ireland as being a homesexual, to the point where they're given the same awkward labels. I guess what was he supposed to say? Lovers?

Anyways they're both writers who allude to past Irish lit and poetry in their works. They were all about the sonnets, villanelles, and the likes. Something my professor told me to start writing in because my poems are boring. But it entails a lot of counting, equations. No thanks. The discussion was nice and they were really cute together. Except towards the end, Lesbos, Side Pony, and Fannie we were Spanish Stupid Inquisition again. (see? Now you know who I am talking about, too. Isn't this great?) My favorite poem that Paula read was called "Quitting the Pub".

Check out their info if you so desire:

http://www.irishplayography.com/search/person.asp?PersonID=1460

http://www.irishwriters-online.com/theodorgan.html


This afternoon's workshop was frustrating because the usual blow bag was at it again explaining how "surreal" his poem was. I made eye contact with a girl I've never talked to before and we both begin giggling like the school girls that we are. I almost forgot the best part. Outside the window, across the river, there was an old man, naked, running in place and doing like jumping jacks or windmills or something. Seriously. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Dianna kept hitting me on the arm and saying "look outside" and I did only to see the same ol stupid swans. I can't believe I missed what she was talking about at first. An old, naked man. He was wearing jogging shoes.... he was jogging in place. along the River Corribe. Only in Ireland.

Tonight we went to listen to some traditional Irish music. It was so fun. We just kept saying. "This is so fun. This is so fun." Like a bunch of idiots. We went to a pub called Taaltes? or something Gaelic and listened to some traditional irish music... Guitars, singing, bodhran (drum) and an accordion. It wasn't as cool as my mom's though. Her accordion is bigger and has her name in glitter on it. And No tin whistle I am holding out for a tin whistle. We were talking to a guy named Paddy last night (yes, that was his name) lol and we were like, "What the hell? We haven't seen any Irish dancers. They're everywhere in Chicago, but none in the actual country of Ireland. What a rip off." And he goes, "a couple more Guinness in me and I'll do a jig on the table for you." We all laughed and then I was like, "no, seriously. Do it." then everyone laughed. Then I scooted his beer closer to him and said. "no, seriously. DO IT." Then he ran away.

We accidentally got their earlier than we planned because it started at 9:30 rather than 9, but we're lucky we got there early because the place was soon infested by dirty French tourists and nice Irish people and corny American tourists like us. So to kill time we played with my deck of cute pink cards that my sweetie pie bought me. puke, puke. I know. I won all three games and I cheated a whole bunch. Playing cards is a good pub past time, I've decided because a) it kills time and b) it detracts guys from talking to you, if they seem shady. It especially helps if they are a stack of pink cards that your boyfriend bought you. American boyfriends are Irish guys' kryptonite. At the mention of a boyfriend, they scram. Sometimes they want the drink they bought you back under false pretenses. (ask Katie)


*In this picture, I was having much to much fun. Note the d bag in the background. He thought he was real funny and come to think of it, looks like my exboyfriend. Maybe that's why he was such a dbag. Kelly, you make the call. What midget did you see he looked like? Wee-man from Jackass. That's right. This picture is also funny because Diana thought she was sitting on my lap, but really she was sitting on some stranger's lap.

We bonded with two Irish guys over getting bombarded by rude french tourists who got kicked out because after ten, you can't be in a bar if you're not 18. And they weren't drinking, just coke because that's like water to them over there. But they were really rude. But I loved listening to them talk. Anyways, the guys' names were Tommy and Paddy. The latter name made us laugh because it's pretty stereotypical Irish and also because it made us think of our dog Paddy. So every once in awhile we'd say, "Poor Paddy" and would shake our heads. And the guy would be like, "what?" Then we'd all laugh. We'd decided we were done after three drinks then Tommy and Paddy bought us a round. And we couldn't be rude. Speaking of rude, have I mentioned that it's rude to tip bartenders here? And waitresses?

We also entertained ourselves by making Carrie drink and order a Guinness, even though she hates it. here is a picture of her looking pretty miserable.


Well, good night, world.